Recently, I read Frances Mayes’s book A Year in the World, in which she chronicles her travels around Europe and the Mediterranean. In one chapter, she and her husband explored the city of Fez. Not only was it my favorite section of the book, but her vivid descriptions of the meals they ate immediately rekindled my interest in Moroccan cooking – as in, made me want to get up out of bed and whip up some couscous that minute. I managed to resist the urge, but a few days later when it was my turn to cook for my office’s weekly meeting of The Finer Things Club (see also: The Office, if you’re unfamiliar), I immediately decided on a simple tagine.
The word tagine refers to both a dish and the vessel it’s cooked in. The dish itself is a slow-cooked stew of sorts, usually featuring protein, vegetables, dried fruits, and nuts. The vessel is a clay pot with a conical lid, which enables any condensed liquid to drip back down to the bottom, ensuring a moist, flavorful dish. I myself do not own a tagine – I have not yet had occasion in my life to register at Williams-Sonoma – but it’s possible to make a tagine in any pot with a tight fitting lid.
I found a recipe from Gourmet magazine for Chicken Tagine with Apricots and Almonds which appealed to me for two reasons – one, it was authentic, having come directly from a Moroccan chef, and two, it had the highest possible rating on the site. Conveniently enough, it also called primarily for ingredients I already had in my pantry – all I had to pick up at the grocery store were some chicken pieces (I decided not to cut up a whole chicken myself, as that has historically not turned out well), a tub of dried apricots, and some fresh parsley and cilantro.
To start, I coated the chicken in a mixture of cinnamon, ground ginger, turmeric, salt and pepper, and olive oil, and brown it for several minutes. Now would probably be a good time to point out that Middle Eastern dishes are often very easy to make cheaply because they call primarily for spices that you already have sitting on your spice rack (probably the weird-colored ones you don’t use!) as opposed to pricey fresh herbs that you have to buy by the bunch even if you only need three sprigs. Even if you don’t have, say turmeric on hand, you can hightail it over to the ethnic aisle of your grocery store and buy some for half the price of what McCormick charges and not much more than the cost of a bunch of fresh herbs. It becomes very easy to make flavorful dishes without having to buy lots of specific ingredients.
Once the chicken was browned, I added red onion, and a few minutes later, garlic, and once they were soft, I returned the chicken to the pot with some water, parsely, and cilantro, covered it all, and left it to cook for half an hour. Seriously, it couldn’t have been easier.
Next came the apricots – they went into a small saucepan with water, honey, and a cinnamon stick, and they simmered until they had rehydrated and the liquid had reduced to a glaze – just about the time it took for the chicken to finish. While this was cooking, having decided not to fry the almonds as called for in the recipe in an effort not to wind up with a 10,000 calorie meal, I heated up the oven to 250 degrees and tossed the almonds in to toast for 10 minutes.
You know, it’s sort of boring to write about cooking when everything goes so swimmingly.
Given that this was actually for lunch the next day, I put the chicken pieces into a plastic container, then mixed the apricots into the remaining liquid and poured it all over the top. I’m pretty sure my roommates thought I had lost it after watching me cook this elaborate meal, then pack it all into the refrigerator and make myself scrambled eggs for dinner, but that’s okay. I also made a pot of couscous, which I packaged separately. The following day, I simply microwaved each component and plated them as prettily as I could given that I was working with flimsy plastic serving utensils, sprinkling the almonds over the top as a delicious garnish.
It smelled good. I mean really good. Everyone within 20 feet of the kitchen remarked on how fabulous it smelled. And it tasted even better. The chicken was moist, the almonds crunchy, and the apricots meltingly tender. The couscous soaked up every last drop of sweet-savory broth. It was, if I do say so myself, one of the best things I ever cooked – and that was as leftovers. I can’t really take credit though, because it was almost too easy. A caveman could make it. One practically did!
